Chapter 61 Achieve Your Life’s Ambition
(It’s Everything You Dreamed)
Kazimir
The morning of battle arrived with a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.
I stood at the edge of the northern outpost, watching the sun rise over the rolling hills of Solandris.
The golden light painted everything in warm hues, a stark contrast to the cold purpose running through my veins.
My shadow warriors moved among the troops, their forms flickering between solid and vapor as they carried my orders across the camp.
Five thousand soldiers—my finest, most loyal fighters—were preparing for the largest magical transportation in the history of warfare. The air hummed with tension and anticipation, the scent of steel and leather and sweat mingling with the earthy aroma of dew-damp grass.
“Quite the view,” Arabella said, appearing at my side.
She wore the battle leathers I’d commissioned for her, the dark material hugging her curves in ways that would have distracted me under different circumstances.
Her hair was pulled back in a severe braid, and the Heirloom—still fused to her and hidden with a glamor—called to me.
“It will be more impressive when we’re looking at it from the steps of Auremar’s palace,” I replied, allowing myself a small smile.
She returned the smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Nervous?”
“The Dark Lord doesn’t get nervous,” I said, the lie rolling easily off my tongue.
The truth was more complicated. What I felt wasn’t exactly nervousness—it was something more primal.
The voice in my head had grown stronger over the past days, a constant whisper urging me toward destruction.
And no matter how many times I slammed down my mental walls, he kept finding cracks.
Take what’s yours. Burn it all. Make them kneel.
I pushed the thoughts away, focusing instead on Arabella’s face.
There was so much I wanted to tell her—needed to tell her—but the words stuck in my throat.
Last night, after we’d sent Evenfall to Auremar with false intelligence, I’d meant to confess everything.
To tell her about the darkness growing inside me, about the ancient entity whose memories sometimes flooded my mind.
To tell her that despite everything, despite who and what I was, I loved her.
But I’d hesitated, and the moment had passed. Now, with battle looming, it wasn’t the time for such revelations. We needed clarity, focus. The confession would have to wait.
“Where’s Griffin?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Finishing the calculations for the portal,” she said. “He says it’ll be ready when you are.”
I nodded, my gaze sweeping over the assembled troops one last time. “And you? Are you ready?”
Her hand found mine, squeezing briefly. “As I’ll ever be.”
The gesture was intimate—a moment of connection before the chaos that was to come. I wanted to pull her into my arms. Instead, I simply squeezed her hand in return.
“Let’s go, then,” I said, releasing her and turning toward the center of the camp where Griffin waited.
Griffin stood in a cleared space, surrounded by an intricate pattern of runes drawn in what looked like crushed obsidian mixed with blood. Probably his own. The fool was nothing if not committed to his craft.
“Ah, there you are!” he called, waving frantically.
His hair stood up in all directions, and dark circles shadowed his eyes.
He’d been working through the night ever since I’d proposed this crazy plan.
“I’ve just finished the final calculations.
It’s going to be magnificent. Or catastrophic. Possibly both!”
“That’s not as reassuring as you seem to think it is,” Arabella muttered.
I stepped closer, examining the runic array. It was complex, far beyond anything I’d seen Griffin attempt before. The pattern spiraled outward from a central point, each line and curve precisely placed to channel and amplify magical energy.
“You’re certain this will work?” I asked.
Griffin pushed his spectacles up his nose, his expression growing serious. “Theoretically, yes. The math checks out.” He hesitated.
“But?” I prompted.
“Well, no one’s ever attempted a portal of this magnitude before,” he admitted. “The energy requirements are substantial.”
I smiled, feeling the Heirloom’s power thrumming through my connection with Arabella, fed by the nexus at the God Spire. “Energy won’t be a problem.”
“Right, yes, of course.” Griffin fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve. “There is one other small concern.”
“Which is?”
“The stability of the portal depends on your concentration. If your focus wavers, even for a moment”—he made an explosive gesture with his hands—“poof.”
“Poof,” I repeated flatly.
“More like a catastrophic collapse of space-time that could potentially tear a hole in reality,” Griffin clarified, “but yes, essentially—poof.”
Arabella looked at me with a mix of concern and amusement. “No pressure.”
I rolled my eyes. “Your confidence is overwhelming.”
“You’ll be fine,” she said, her tone softening. “Just don’t get distracted.”
The way she said it made it clear what kind of distraction she meant. I arched an eyebrow at her. “I’m a professional, Lady Blackrose.”
“Of course you are, Lord Blackrose.” Her smile was teasing, but there was a warmth in her eyes that made my chest tighten.
Tell her now, a part of me urged. Before it’s too late.
But Griffin was already moving into position, gesturing for me to take my place at the center of the runic array. The moment passed, slipping away like sand through fingers.
“Thorne,” I called, and my security chief materialized at my side, seemingly from nowhere. “Are the troops ready?”
Thorne nodded grimly. “In position and awaiting your command, my lord.”
“Good.” I turned to Arabella. “You know what to do?”
She nodded. “You create a distraction big enough that Auremar won’t notice a small team infiltrating his palace.”
“And?”
“And I stay alive,” she added, rolling her eyes. “Yes, I remember the plan.”
I simply nodded. “Then let’s begin.”
I stepped into the center of the runic array, feeling the magic immediately respond to my presence. The runes began to heat, a familiar pain that I welcomed. Pain meant power, and I would need every ounce of it for what was to come.
Griffin took up position at the edge of the array, his hands hovering over specific runes. “Ready when you are, Lord Blackrose.”
I closed my eyes, reaching for the well of dominion magic that resided within me. It rose eagerly to my call, dark and hungry. Through my connection with Arabella, I could feel the Heirloom’s power joining with mine, amplifying it to levels I’d never experienced before.
The voice in my head grew more insistent.
Yes. Show them what true dominion can do.
I opened my eyes, directing my gaze to the empty space before me. “Begin.”
Griffin pressed his hands to the runes, and they flared to life, glowing with an eerie purple light. The magic surged through the pattern, following the paths he’d laid out, gathering and focusing at the center where I stood.
I raised my hands, channeling the power through my body. The runes beneath my skin burned white-hot, and I could feel sweat beading on my forehead from the effort. The air around me began to distort, reality bending to my will.
A small tear appeared in the fabric of space, no larger than my hand.
I pushed more power into it, forcing it to expand.
The tear widened, edges fraying as it struggled against the natural order of things.
It was like trying to rip open a steel door with my bare hands—possible, with enough strength, but requiring a level of effort that bordered on agony.
The voice grew louder still, almost drowning out my own thoughts.
More. Take more. Break through.
I reached deeper, drawing on reserves of power I hadn’t known I possessed, and finally…
drawing on the power of the ley lines beneath the God Spire.
The Heirloom’s energy flowed through our connection, a torrent of ancient magic that made my blood sing.
The tear in reality expanded rapidly, growing until it was the size of a doorway, then a carriage, then larger still.
Through the portal, I could see the outskirts of Sunspire, Solandris’s capital city just beyond the famous Golden Rose Fields. Except the fields, which should have been a sea of shimmering gold, were black—the roses withered and dead, their once vibrant petals now charred husks.
“The roses,” Arabella gasped, stepping closer to the portal. “They’re—”
“Dead,” I bit out. “Auremar’s work, no doubt.”
The implications were clear and disturbing. The Golden Roses were more than just Solandris’s most precious export—they were conduits to the Shadow King’s prison. If they were dead, the prison’s integrity was compromised far more than we’d realized.
Yes, the voice hissed. The prison weakens. Soon, I will be free.
I gritted my teeth, pushing the voice aside and focusing on maintaining the portal. It had reached its full size now, a massive tear in reality large enough for an army to march through. The strain of holding it open was like trying to hold back an ocean with my bare hands.
“Now!” I shouted to Thorne, who relayed the command down the line.
The troops began to move, marching through the portal in ordered formations.
First the vanguard with the banners snapping in the wind, then the main force, followed by supply wagons and support units.
Finally, three larger wagons rumbled past, their wheels groaning under the weight of wooden crates—each one filled with bones harvested from the outpost’s fallen.
Sweat poured down my face, and my muscles trembled with the effort of maintaining the portal. The runes beneath my skin felt like they were trying to burn their way out, the pain a constant, screaming presence.
“Kaz?” Arabella’s voice cut through the haze of pain and concentration.
“I’m fine,” I managed.